


Cross

by yet_intrepid



Category: Vikings (TV)
Genre: Gen, Religious Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-07
Updated: 2013-04-07
Packaged: 2017-12-07 19:45:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/752339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yet_intrepid/pseuds/yet_intrepid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Before the visit to the earl in episode three, Athelstan has a visitor—one of his captured brothers manages to see him for a brief time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cross

He was carrying hay from the back of the yard up towards the goats’ stall when he heard his name whispered urgently, and heard his own language.

“Brother Athelstan! Brother Athelstan, over here!”

A forgotten joy leapt into Athelstan’s heart as he checked around to ensure that the yard was empty and then, setting down his load, hurried over to the fence against the tree line.

“Brother Hewald?” he asked, his voice cracking even in a whisper. “Why have you come—how did you find me, and is it not dangerous for you to be here?”

A hand reached out to press his. “Everyone knows where Ragnar Lothbrok lives. I was sent in this direction on an errand, and it is worth the risk to stray a little from my course. Are you well?”

“I am not mistreated,” Athelstan assured him. “The Lord has protected me and Ragnar has been almost kind. But you?”

Hewald stepped out from among the trees, the hood of his cowl pushed back to show his face, and Athelstan had to press his lips tight to keep from gasping. “Saint Raphael aid you,” he murmured, as he took in the large, dark bruises and raw gashes. “There is more than this?”

Hewald nodded grimly. “We are told to take up our cross and follow in the suffering of Christ, Brother,” he reminded Athelstan. “I endure far less than he did.”

Athelstan swallowed back the but that rose to his lips as he compared his own situation with Hewald’s. “Shall we pray together?” he offered, not sure what else to say.

“Please,” said Hewald, hunger and loneliness in his eyes, and Athelstan grasped his hand and began. _Pater noster, qui est in caelis…_

Oh Father, said his mind as his lips formed the words, if… _since_ you are still in heaven, spare Brother Hewald this suffering if it be your will.

They said “amen” together, and Athelstan was about to ask the archangel Raphael for Hewald’s healing when he felt a presence behind him and started to turn.

But he wasn’t fast enough. Ragnar had seen them and was right there, both huge hands on Athelstan’s shoulders, shoving him aside so roughly that he fell several feet away. Within half a second, those hands were on Hewald, pulling him up over the fence, shaking him.

“Conspire escape with my slave, will you?” he demanded. Athelstan, pushing himself into a sitting position, forced words out despite his breathlessness and over Hewald’s whimpers.

“I swear to you, Ragnar Lothbrok,” he said, “we were praying to God. That is all. We did not speak of escape—do not harm him; he has done nothing to deserve it.”

Ragnar looked over at him without loosening his grip on Hewald. “You have no arm-ring to swear on,” he said, tilting his head half-mockingly. “How do I know you do not swear falsely, priest?”

“Because it is a sin to lie,” Athelstan blurted. “God would know if I swore falsely.”

“Then swear on your cross.”

He blinked. Not sure if the act were blasphemous, but certain that he was saving Hewald and himself in the only way he could, he held out the necklace. “I swear, we never spoke of escape.”

Ragnar let go of Hewald, who crumpled painfully to the ground. Athelstan scrambled towards him, but found Ragnar firmly in the way.

At an impatient motion of Ragnar’s foot, Hewald pulled himself up and started away from the Lothbrok farm, glancing over his shoulder to give Athelstan a last nod. Athelstan, ignoring pain in his back and keeping a nervous eye on Ragnar, picked up the bundle of hay again and started for the goats’ stall.

He was grateful for the visit, but he was fairly sure it would be the only one, and that Hewald—even if his master did not suspect him of attempting escape—would face more consequences than he’d admitted for delaying at his task. 

Hewulf was the one who had to take up the cross of suffering, while Athelstan clung to the cross of protection and was, relatively speaking, safe.

For there were no other consequences for Athelstan himself. He was merely sore for a few days from being pushed over.


End file.
